


Prayers For the Faithless

by emptydistractions



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bombing, Church Sex, Existential Angst, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Public Blow Jobs, Soldiers, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptydistractions/pseuds/emptydistractions
Summary: They're not always soldiers. Sometimes they're just two boys, grieving for what they've lost and trying to make it home.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	Prayers For the Faithless

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my fabulous beta Lillaby!

The floor was cold. A chill crept in even through the rough canvas material of Steve’s army-issue trousers. Bits of shattered tile and broken cement dug painfully into his knees as he knelt between the remains of half-charred pews. Broken glass littered the floor of the church, and the altar had cracked at the base and lay to one side, like a soldier sleeping in the bar at last call. Up in the rafters, the fluttering of wings and the last few notes of errant birdsong marked the end of the day for the birds that had taken roost among the exposed beams. Steve was tired, and even his serum-enhanced body ached from the days of endless rucking that had gotten them to the bombed out little French town. Hardly a speck on the map before the bombs had dropped, it was now little more than the shells of the few remaining buildings. But it had been as good a place as any to lay down their packs and rest for the night.

Steve let his eyelids drift closed as he fingered the well-worn beads of his rosary and murmured, the words so familiar they were like a second skin. The Apostle’s Creed. The Lord’s Prayer. A Hail Mary for faith. His lips hesitated as he came to the Hail Mary for hope. Leaves skittered across the ruined floor as wind swept through the gaping holes behind the altar where stained glass would have once captured the sun’s glow and sent colored beams of light to wash over the churchgoers. It was a lovely image, but he knew that when he opened his eyes there would be no parishioners, no light. Only himself, kneeling alone in a dark and empty church, halfway around the world from home.

The creak of the old wooden doors, miraculously still standing, pulled his attention from prayer. Before he’d even opened his eyes, the light-footed tread, barely a whisper against the ground, told him who it was. Steve relaxed, rosary still hanging from his fingers, as he sat back on his heels. The quiet footsteps wound their way down the aisle and through the maze of rubble until they were right next to him, boots battle-worn and spackled with mud. The charred wood of the pew groaned in protest, but held strong as the person took a seat behind him.

“You think anyone up there is still listenin’?”

The beads were warm in Steve’s fingers and settled into imprints on his skin like they belonged there. “You know what I think, Buck.”

“Yeah.” Behind him, Bucky sighed. His voice was thoughtful when he spoke; the way that it was only when they were alone. “Me? I dunno. If I were all-powerful, I think I’d pick a better place to spend my time.”

Steve cracked a smile at that. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re not.”

He could hear the amusement in Bucky’s tone, could picture the little half-smile on Bucky’s face perfectly. “Yeah, well, you know I was never good at all that church stuff. Used to drive my Ma up the wall fidgetin’ during mass.”

“Remember the Sunday she threatened to give you away and Becca cried for hours?”

Bucky laughed, and the sudden sound startled a bird from its nest, chittering angrily as it took flight. “She was inconsolable. I guess it’s hard to explain frustration to a five-year-old.”

Steve laughed with him, and for a moment they could have been teenagers again, making a nuisance of themselves during communion while Sister Frances stared them down. The silence of the dark church quickly swallowed up the sound, plunging them both back into an uneasy silence.

Steve was the first to break it. “Do you think about them a lot?” he asked quietly.

Bucky was silent for so long that Steve thought maybe he hadn’t heard the question. “I try not to,” he finally said. His voice was tinged with something like bitterness. “I don’t see the point.”

Steve twisted around sharply and took his first good look at Bucky since he’d walked in. He looked tired, lines etched onto his face that Steve could have sworn hadn’t been there yesterday. There was a healing bruise at his hairline, ugly grey and yellow, and his hair was wild with the sweat and dirt of living rough.

“They’re your family,” Steve told him.

Bucky tucked his head down, shadows playing over his face. “I used to dream about Brooklyn, you know. Ma and Becca and you, before, back when this all started.”

“And now?”

Bucky’s smile was sad. “Now I don’t dream about anything.”

Steve pushed himself up, ignoring the protesting of his knees, and sat next to Bucky. He reached out, hesitant, before laying a comforting hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure he even had the words.

As always, Bucky got there before Steve had the chance. He turned swiftly in his seat, leaning forward to kiss Steve. He smelled like war; gunpowder and cigarette smoke and sweat. As Bucky pushed forward, it reminded Steve of their first kiss, all fumbling and desperate.

Steve pulled back quickly. “Buck!” It came out in a whispered rush. “This is a church.”

Bucky scoffed as he gestured around them. “This is an empty building that’s had a bomb dropped on it. God isn’t here anymore. He left this place to rot just like the people of this town did and just like we will if this fucking war has its way.”

Steve stood, anxiety and sudden anger curling his hands into fists at his sides. “Don’t say that,” he said forcefully, stalking away from Bucky and into the main aisle of the church. He heard Bucky following him, and when he spun around they were nearly nose to nose in the dark. “We’re going to get home.”

Bucky was silent for a maddeningly long time as they stared at each other. Something that looked like hurt clouded Bucky’s eyes and sent Steve’s mind reeling. Finally, Bucky spoke quietly with none of the bravado he’d had before. “But what if we don’t?”

Without stopping to think, Steve closed the small distance between them, kissing Bucky roughly. Bucky made a surprised sound and stiffened momentarily as Steve’s arms went around him, but he quickly melted into the kiss, his chapped lips moving against Steve’s and his arms wrapping around Steve in kind. His hands clutched at Steve’s back, fingers digging furrows into Steve’s shoulders.

Steve caught Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth and nipped at it insistently. The tiny gasp of pain from Bucky was swallowed rapidly by the darkness around them. The wind had picked up, stirring piles of dried leaves that crunched underfoot and gathered in piles against the ruined walls of the church. Steve bit down again, harder this time, and Bucky opened his mouth obediently. Bucky’s mouth was warm and wet as Steve explored it with his tongue, drinking in that intrinsic, incalculable taste that made him think of Bucky and home. Bucky’s tongue wrapped around Steve’s, his lips rough and forceful as he fought to gain control of the kiss.

Steve felt a smile creep across his face as he kissed Bucky back, pulling him in tight and forcing him back nearly into a dip, some strange facsimile of a dance. Bucky growled, the sound reverberating through Steve’s own chest as he pushed back against Steve, doubling down on his efforts when Steve planted his feet, solid and immovable. The ground he couldn’t gain through brute strength, Bucky made up for in other ways. He sucked and bit at Steve’s lower lip, the kiss turning wild and feral. They’d had trouble at first, navigating the new dynamic between them after the serum, and Steve had worried that his new body made Bucky feel small, emasculated. But one night, in the quiet of their shared tent, Bucky had admitted to Steve in a whisper the secret thrill that he took from it, and Steve had done his best to comply ever since.

Without warning, Steve shifted so that one arm was wrapped tight around Bucky’s back while the other went to the backs of his thighs. It was barely any effort at all for him to lift Bucky, who for all his struggling and cursing, immediately wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. With Bucky held securely against him, Steve walked them forward. Bucky cursed him again, the word almost sounding fond, before kissing him with a renewed ferocity. It sent a warm feeling flooding through Steve’s chest knowing that Bucky trusted him so completely.

He reached the front of the church with a few quick strides, careful not to trip on any of the rubble strewn across the floor. Steve stopped in front of the altar. For a moment they stayed like that, Steve holding Bucky, Bucky’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist and fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders as they kissed. He could feel Bucky’s cock pressed between them, hard and insistent. Steve relished in the moment, touching and tasting each other, warm bodies flush together, intimate in ways they so rarely had the chance to be in the daylight.

Steve took another step forward and lowered Bucky down onto the ruined altar, before dropping to his knees before him. Hurriedly, Bucky fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, hands shaking as he tried to undo them. Steve pushed Bucky’s hands aside and deftly undid most of the buttons. Bucky shifted his weight and Steve yanked the fabric down along with Bucky’s underwear. 

Bucky’s cock hung between his legs, hard and flushed and leaking. Steve wasted no time, placing his hands on Bucky’s hips and holding him in place as he sucked Bucky’s cock into his mouth. In his pants, Steve’s own cock was already half-hard, and Bucky’s sudden cry as Steve sucked him had it swelling further. Steve sucked hard, hollowing out his cheeks as Bucky cried again. The sound eerily reminded Steve of a wounded animal, and he dug his fingers tips into the soft flesh at Bucky’s hips. Bucky seemed to understand the message. He stuffed a fist into his own mouth, biting hard at his fingers in an attempt to silence himself.

Steve relaxed his throat, taking as much of Bucky into his mouth as he could. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the underside of Bucky’s cock. There was saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes watered as Bucky’s cock bumped up against the back of his throat. It had been a while since they’d had the chance to do this, and he felt out of practice as he swallowed down the instinct to gag against the intrusion. He could feel Bucky writhing beneath his fingertips, the muscles of his thighs clenching and relaxing where his legs hung down on either side of Steve’s head. Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t last long like this.

He could taste precome on his tongue, salty and bitter, as Bucky moaned long and low. The sound rumbled through Steve’s chest and straight down to his cock, which strained against the thick fabric of his trousers. Steve doubled his efforts, swallowing around Bucky’s cock again and again, until Bucky was wriggling so wildly that Steve had to hold him down with his hands that were still on Bucky’s hips. He glanced up through his eyelashes as he wrapped his tongue around the head of Bucky’s cock, running it along the slit and collecting the precome that gathered there.

Bucky was perched on the ruined altar, back arched like a bow and weight supported by one hand thrown behind him. The other hand covered his mouth as he cried against it, eyes clenched shut tight against the onslaught of sensation. His hair was rucked up wildly, and his pale skin seemed to glow in the beams of moonlight that shone down through the ruined ceiling. He was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen; brighter and more alive than anything ever dreamed up by Raphael or Michelangelo. Having Bucky like this, moaning beneath his fingertips, felt like worship, like a prayer whispered in the dead of night with nothing but faith in something unseen to sustain him.

When Bucky came, it was without warning, his cock pulsing in Steve’s mouth as Bucky cried out silently against his hand. Come filled Steve’s mouth, hot and bitter, and he swallowed it down. He continued to suck on Bucky’s cock, teasing the aftershocks out of him as they locked eyes. Bucky was trembling, fingers held so tightly against his mouth that they were white. Steve’s cock strained against his trousers as he swallowed down the last bits of Bucky’s come and let Bucky’s spent cock fall softly from between his lips. He let go of Bucky’s hips, wiping his mouth as he stared at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, and it was all the permission Steve needed. He stood and pushed his own trousers down. A lone button clattered across the floor as Steve pulled his cock free. He was so hard he was aching with it, and the mere brush of his fingers had him gasping. He felt Bucky’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as Steve took himself in hand and began to stroke. A moan rattled its way out of his chest as he covered his mouth with one hand like Bucky had done, the other hand still stroking his cock steadily.

It took barely any time at all. He felt the pressure building in his groin, that sweet pleasure-pain just before release. His head swam as his hand sped up, stroking himself faster and faster as he chased the peak. The air between them was hot and humid, their labored breathing mingling as they both panted. With a muffled groan, Steve felt himself tip over the edge. His hand tightened on his cock as he came, and his strokes turned long and slow as hot come splashed onto the bare skin of Bucky’s groin. The sight of it, his come covering Bucky’s pale skin and dripping through the thatch of curly hair at the base of his cock, was mesmerizing. Some of it smeared between them, probably ruining their shirts, as Steve leaned forward to capture Bucky in a kiss that was equal parts messy and tender.

When they finally parted, both breathing hard, Steve tipped his forehead against Bucky’s. The silence that filled the space between them was content, and Steve was happy to bask in the feeling for just a little bit longer before they had to return to the world outside of this little space they had managed to carve out among the remnants of war. Slowly, he felt Bucky’s breathing even out as his come dried cool and tacky between them. Steve pulled back slightly so he could look Bucky in the eyes.

“We’re going to survive this war,” Steve said. “We’re going to go home.”

“Okay, Steve,” Bucky said quietly. As he tipped his head back to stare at the sky through the holes in the roof, Steve caught a brief glimpse of his face. Even as Bucky’s eyes reflected the stars, bright pinpricks against a velvety black backdrop, Steve couldn’t help but think they seemed sad.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know!


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